There is a belief, prominent among many of the new friends I have made through Dreameagle, that knowing what you want and visualizing it has the power to help make it real in your life. This would mean that the dreams of youth, when our imaginations are so strong, can greatly shape our lives.
I am almost certainly here then on Strider largely because of the writings of the great boating sage William Atkin. This passage still lives in my soul and fills the cabin tonight.
I realized while cooking my first meal aboard, standing in the toasty warmth that collects in the upper half of the cabin, bathed in the warm steam and savory smells from the stove, that I can actually hear the cabin heater. It makes a quiet, “Woof, woof, tick, woof” that is almost subliminal, like the quiet breathing of a large dog asleep by a hearth. When the weather is cold, this heater with its flickering light is certainly Strider’s beating heart.
Outside, the wind howls. It’s strong enough that the boat heels in time with the rise and fall of the sounds from the singing rigging. Even docked, she lives and responds to the vast forces of the surrounding weather system. The contrast between the raw cold I know lies just outside the companionway and the snug warmth and light of my floating home is everything William Atkin led me to expect of the cruising life so long ago.
My life has become migratory. I thought today that I feel like a Snowy Owl, at home in this cold. Then, I received an email from Dreameagle with a photo of the painting she completed today.
It was a wonderful winter in Albany but I am feeling the peace of being back at the mobile center of my life. Dreameagle will be here early next week. Speaking of visualizing what you want, look back at what I wrote here a year ago and see how it has come to pass.
I am almost certainly here then on Strider largely because of the writings of the great boating sage William Atkin. This passage still lives in my soul and fills the cabin tonight.
It may be late winter but the connection to the long ago experience of the man who wrote those words is still strong. The air is raw, there are still piles of snow around the cleats on the docks and a thin blanket of white still coats the many sleeping boats nearby.
I realized while cooking my first meal aboard, standing in the toasty warmth that collects in the upper half of the cabin, bathed in the warm steam and savory smells from the stove, that I can actually hear the cabin heater. It makes a quiet, “Woof, woof, tick, woof” that is almost subliminal, like the quiet breathing of a large dog asleep by a hearth. When the weather is cold, this heater with its flickering light is certainly Strider’s beating heart.
Outside, the wind howls. It’s strong enough that the boat heels in time with the rise and fall of the sounds from the singing rigging. Even docked, she lives and responds to the vast forces of the surrounding weather system. The contrast between the raw cold I know lies just outside the companionway and the snug warmth and light of my floating home is everything William Atkin led me to expect of the cruising life so long ago.
My life has become migratory. I thought today that I feel like a Snowy Owl, at home in this cold. Then, I received an email from Dreameagle with a photo of the painting she completed today.
It was a wonderful winter in Albany but I am feeling the peace of being back at the mobile center of my life. Dreameagle will be here early next week. Speaking of visualizing what you want, look back at what I wrote here a year ago and see how it has come to pass.
